


all your dreams (are knocking on your front door)

by elegantstupidity



Category: Pitch (TV 2016)
Genre: Banter, F/M, Getting Together, Gift Giving, Reunions, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-18 23:41:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13110996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elegantstupidity/pseuds/elegantstupidity
Summary: When Ginny Baker got traded back to the San Diego Padres, Mike figured it was only polite to send her a housewarming gift.Of course, she had a few questions about it.Now with a follow up:my hope is set





	all your dreams (are knocking on your front door)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lizwontcry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizwontcry/gifts).



"You know you're a real asshole, right?"

Mike didn't bother to pull his phone away from his ear to check the caller ID. He'd already stared long and hard at it when it first lit up his screen. He'd stared so long, actually, the call nearly went to voicemail.

Which would have been an unfortunate beginning to the first call he'd received from Ginny Baker in years. 

To be fair, she'd been pretty busy, off anchoring the back end of the Nationals' rotation for the better part of three seasons, two of which had taken her to the World Series. Mike, meanwhile, had been retired the past two years, bouncing between gigs for a few months before settling into a position with the Padres Foundation. It wasn't playing ball, not anywhere close to it, but he didn't hate it. Which was more than he thought he'd have after the game was done with him. If, some days, he'd considered pulling up stakes and heading east to settle somewhere, oh, maybe around D.C., nothing ever came of it. And good thing, too.

Because Ginny Baker was back in San Diego once again. 

And here she was, calling him for the first time in three years.

Three years, two months, and four days to be exact. There was no point in Mike pretending he didn't know that, almost down to the hour. 

"Hello to you, too, Baker," he returned, not even bothering to hide his smile. He was alone; there was no one to judge him for the way he reacted to Ginny. Mike had given up on judging himself for it sometime in her rookie season.

"Hi, Lawson," she replied dutifully. Was it just him, or could he hear the dimple tucked into her cheek as she struggled to hold back a grin? He hoped not. "Now answer the question."

"Well, you're missing a very important key word there: charming. I'm a charming asshole."

Ginny laughed, and Mike's eyes fluttered shut at the familiar sound. Didn't matter that he hadn't heard it so close and personal in what felt like a lifetime, it sounded just like it always had, warm and horsey and better than sex. God, he'd fucking missed her laugh. Missed being the cause of it even more. "Is that what you call it?"

"No. That'd be self-centered." Before she could make a disbelieving noise, as he was sure she would, Mike continued, "But I don't argue when someone else says it."

"Well, I'm not going to."

"Never thought you would." 

It was, frankly, amazing how easily he fell back into this rhythm with Ginny. They might as well have been five years younger, talking through the nights of her rookie season. There were times Mike was sure he'd give anything to go back to those days, but this was almost as good. Maybe it wasn't just the game that he'd missed. 

Okay, it definitely wasn't just the game he missed.

"So, to what do I owe the pleasure?" he asked after a short pause, hoping to keep the tone light. Non-confrontational. 

After all, he was the one who'd told her not to worry about him. He couldn't be upset she'd taken him at his word. When she'd been traded in the middle of his farewell season, to a team with a real shot at taking it all, he hadn't wanted her to tie herself up in knots, thinking about all the could-haves that had built up between them. And there were more than a few. Between his impending retirement and her general impatience, they'd had a lot of close calls over the front half of the season. It didn't matter that they were clearly careening towards something they couldn't turn back from; the front office didn't give a shit about romance. In the end, Ginny couldn't stay and Mike couldn't leave.

So, he'd told her to go kick ass in Washington and, if she got a chance, to spare a fond thought for her poor, retired captain. 

Ginny had certainly handled the first. With two World Series under her belt and a ring on her finger, there was no question about that. Not even her most die hard detractors could say she wasn't a gamer now.

The second, well, Mike could only hope. 

She was calling him, though. Only three days in town, and she was already calling him. 

"Because you're an asshole," she responded immediately. 

Mike laughed, but didn't dispute it. He definitely was. It was part of the charm. "Is that any way to talk to your former captain?"

"It is when he sends me a four-foot tall poster of himself. Naked."

"Did I?" he asked, scratching at his cheek idly. He did. It'd been a bitch finding a copy of that picture from the Body Issue at a high enough resolution to print out so large, too. What? She'd just moved back to town. Her place couldn't possibly have any decorations yet. He was helping! If he was also reminding her of just how good he (still) looked beneath his clothes, that was just a bonus. "That doesn't sound like me."

"I've never heard anything sound more like you, you narcissist."

"Watch it, Baker," he warned, but the current of danger was probably offset by the way he was grinning ear to ear. Didn't matter. He didn't have to look threatening. Just sound it.

She hummed, and wasn't that interesting? Something dark and primal tightened in Mike's gut. He wanted Ginny to make that sound again. And again and again if he had any say in the matter. 

Instead, though, Ginny veered back to the topic at hand. "And don't get me started on the card!"

"Oh, there was a card, too?"

"Like you don't know."

"I don't know." There was a zero percent chance Ginny believed any of his bullshit, but as long as she was going to humor him, Mike would milk this for all it was worth. He liked hearing her voice. "What's it say?"

"What, you don't remember?" Ginny taunted, laughter running through her voice. "Is retirement getting to you, old man? Messing with your memory?"

"Nah, I'm just trying to help you figure out who'd send you a gift like that. Must be someone with excellent taste."

"I can see the appeal," she said, completely flattening Mike. He was fucking bowled over. Before he could come up with an appropriate—or less than appropriate—response, her voice was back in his ear, clearly reciting from the card. "Whether or not you had a poster to go with that rookie card, I think we can both agree you deserve one now. Welcome back to San Diego."

"That's nice," he said, though he was still trying to get his head back on straight. "But there's no proof it's from me."

"No proof? I didn't tell anyone else about having your rookie card!"

"Blip and Ev knew, right?"

"Blip and Ev aren't gonna send me huge photos of my naked captain," she threw back. 

Mike, honestly, was too caught up in the way Ginny said, "my naked captain," to mount much of a defense. Besides, he was pretty sure that was definitely something Evelyn would do.

"Besides, I know your chicken scratch, Lawson. I've gone through enough of your notes on batters to recognize it in my sleep."

There was something more than a little thrilling about that. All these years later and Ginny still knew his handwriting on sight. Maybe she'd kept some of his old notes on the heat maps they used to pore over; a piece of him to keep nearby in D.C.

He'd dwell on it more if the doorbell didn't ring. 

Frowning—because who the hell was going door to door this late?—Mike padded through his quiet house to the source of the disturbance. Balancing his phone between his cheek and his shoulder, he disarmed the alarm, unlocked the door, and pulled it open as Ginny provided her final piece of proof. 

"And, of course, there's the fact that you didn't even bother to leave your address off the shipping label." 

With a dull thud, his phone hit the floor. He didn't even bother to look down or check the screen for cracks. He didn't even register the fall. Mike was too riveted by the sight in front of him.

There, standing right on his own front steps, was Ginny Baker. In the flesh.

"Hi," she breathed, smiling a little tentatively even as she shoved her phone in the pocket of her coat.

In her time away, she'd definitely matured. Mike had seen the evidence in pictures and the games—pretty much all of them—he managed to catch on TV, but seeing it in person was something else. She'd settled into her long limbs, looking less coltish and more self-assured. Her curly hair was a bit shorter than when he'd last seen her in person, now swinging somewhere between her chin and the sloping line of her shoulders. Even her fashion sense had developed. There wasn't a speck of lycra or spandex that Mike could see, though that could be the handiwork of the trench coat tightly belted over her body. 

She was just as beautiful as she'd ever been, though.

"Hi," he breathed back, too shocked to do anything more. 

Luckily, Ginny wasn't one to stand on ceremony. She stepped into the house and, before Mike could stumble back to let her in, wrapped her strong arms around his neck. Instinctively, his wound around her, too.

"I missed you," she confessed right into his shoulder. Her fingertips curled into him, like she wanted to pull herself even closer. He wouldn't object to it if he thought it were physically possible. 

Mike couldn't help the way his hands tightened on her back, digging into the dip of her waist. "I missed you, too," was all he could say. Honestly. Every other thought had flown out of his head when face-to-face (and body-to-body) with Ginny Baker.

Ginny sniffed, burying her face against him for a brief moment before drawing away. Mike had to consciously tell himself to release her, and she seemed as reluctant to go, her hands lingering over his shoulders and chest before she finally took a step back.

"Figured I'd come over and deliver my thank you in person." 

"You don't have to keep it," he tried, but she was already shaking her head. 

"No," she said. "I like it."

Given the way her eyes trailed over him, taking in the fit of his shirt over his chest and the way his sweats clung to his thighs, Mike didn't doubt it.

If she kept looking at him like that, he was pretty sure his thighs wouldn't be the only things on display in these pants. He was also pretty sure she might not mind.

In an effort to collect himself, he turned back to the still open door, shutting it and throwing the lock. He took one deep breath to steel himself before turning back to Ginny. She'd wandered out of the foyer, her trench still tied shut around her waist.

"Let me take your coat," he offered belatedly, following after her. 

Ginny ignored him, trailing into the kitchen, studying her surroundings. "So, you still live in this fishbowl?"

"Didn't see a reason to move." Her gaze flicked to him, steady and assessing. Mike just shrugged. "Everyone knows where to find me."

"This spaceship is pretty hard to miss."

"When are you gonna stop badmouthing my house?" he complained because he was sure that was what she wanted. To step away from all the double-meanings and insinuation-laden words. On cue, she grinned, ready for whatever complaint he had for her. "You did it as a rookie and you're doing it as a World Series champ. It's like you haven't learned anything in all the time you've been gone."

Her grin shifted to something a little more philosophical. She turned and leaned back against the counter, long legs outstretched. Mike hovered a few feet away, drinking in the sight of her. Ginny returned the favor, her head cocking to the side as she studied him for a quiet moment. 

When she decided to break it, she really broke it. 

"I've learned a few things," she started, slow and more than a bit wary. "Like how not to take bullshit."

"Always a good thing to learn."

"So, why'd you send me the poster, Mike?"

He swallowed and shrugged. For his sake, Mike was more than willing to lay it all on the line, but this wasn't just about him. Ginny still had a career and a future to think about. One that might not involve him. So, he hedged. "Figured you might want a memento."

"You sure that's not you? I remember you trying to sneak a peek at that shoot," she replied, raising one eyebrow in challenge.

Mike crossed his arms over his chest and didn't feel even a little bit vindicated by the way Ginny's eyes immediately dropped from his face. "You did first."

"Maybe." Ginny shrugged, apparently unbothered at being called out. Her full lips quirked to the side, making one dimple appear, and dark eyes dancing. Her fingers worried at the knot in her belt, and Mike suddenly wondered why she hadn't taken it off yet. "But you did last. You still want that look?"

Mike had to swallow hard to get his voice dislodged from his throat. When he finally managed to speak, it came out as a low rumble. "That on the table?"

"Oh, it can be anywhere you want it, captain."

Almost without intending it—except how could he intend anything else?—Mike stepped straight into her. Her face tipped up, keeping her eyes locked on his. This close, he couldn't help but marvel at how unbelievably gorgeous she was. How had he ever gotten anything done with her around?

"Anywhere, huh? You're gonna give me ideas."

"Don't threaten me with a good time."

Mike chuckled, but there wasn't much to laugh about when his lips were so goddamn close to Ginny Baker's.

And tonight, his phone was still lying neglected on the floor. No badly time call was going to interrupt this. Not again.

"No threats," he murmured, already closing the final gap between them, beyond ready for the sweet press of her mouth against his. He'd only been waiting what felt like his entire adult life. "Just a promise."

(It wasn't until much, much later—after they'd made it upstairs and Ginny's coat had been removed to reveal nothing at all beneath it—that Mike had the chance to clear up some misconceptions. 

"You still think I'm an asshole?"

Ginny laughed, raspy and content. She curled around him, a bare thigh skating over his hip and her breasts pressing against his side. "Yeah, but..." she answered, though the way she stretched up to press a kiss against his cheek soothed any sting. Only once she'd settled again, face nuzzled into his neck and arm draped over his stomach, did she finish the thought. 

"You're mine anyway."

Well, that was more than good enough for Mike.)

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was definitely supposed to be smutty, but I chickened out at the last minute. I'm definitely/maybe already thinking about the smutty follow up for this, if that's any consolation? Happy Yuletide anyway!


End file.
